Sejer was silent, trying to recall the way they had driven.
"So you left her at 8.06 a.m. by the garage and drove straight to work?"
"Yes."
"Down Gneisveien and out to the main highway?"
"That's correct."
"I would think," Sejer said, "that at that time of day most people are driving towards town and that there's probably little traffic going the other way."
"Yes, that's right. There are no main roads going through the village, and no jobs, either."
"Did you pass any cars on the way that were driving towards the village?"
The man was silent for a moment. Sejer waited. The room was as quiet as a tomb.
"Yes, actually, I did pass one, down by the flats, just before the roundabout. A van, I think, ugly and with peeling paint. Driving quite slowly."
"Who was driving it?"
"A man," he said hesitantly. "One man."
"My name is Raymond." He smiled.
Ragnhild looked up, saw the smiling face in the mirror, and Kollen Mountain bathed in the morning light.
"Would you like to go for a drive?"
"Mama's waiting for me."
She said it in a stuck-up sort of voice.
"Have you ever been to the top of Kollen?"
"One time, with Papa. We had a picnic."
"It's possible to drive up there," he explained. "From the back side, that is. Shall we drive up to the top?"
"I want to go home," she said, a bit uncertain now.
He shifted down and stopped.
"Just a short ride?" he asked.
His voice was thin. Ragnhild thought he sounded so sad. And she wasn't used to disappointing the wishes of grown-ups. She got up, walked forward to the front seat and leaned over.
"Just a short ride," she repeated. "Up to the top and then back home right away."
He backed into Feldspatveien and drove back downhill.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Ragnhild Elise."
He rocked a little from side to side and cleared his throat, as if to admonish her.
"Ragnhild Elise. You can't go out shopping so early in the morning. It's only 8.15 a.m. The shops are closed."
She didn't answer. Instead she lifted Elise out of the pram, put her on her lap and straightened her dress. Then she pulled the dummy out of the doll's mouth. Instantly the doll began to scream, a thin, metallic baby cry.
"What's that?"
He braked hard and looked in the mirror.
"That's just Elise. She cries when I take out her dummy."
"I don't like that noise! Put it back in!"
He was restless at the wheel now, and the van weaved back and forth.
"Papa is a better driver than you are," she said.
"I had to teach myself," he said sulkily. "Nobody wanted to teach me."
"Why not?"
He didn't reply, just tossed his head. The van was out on the main highway now; he drove in second gear down to the roundabout and passed through the intersection with a hoarse roar.
"Now we're coming to Horgen," she said, delighted.
He didn't reply. Ten minutes later he turned left, up into the wooded mountainside. On the way they passed a couple of farms with red barns and tractors parked here and there. They saw no one. The road grew narrower and peppered with holes. Ragnhild's arms were starting to grow tired from holding on to the pram, so she laid the doll on the floor and put her foot between the wheels as a brake.
"This is where I live," he said suddenly and stopped.
"With your wife?"
"No, with my father. But he's in bed."
"Hasn't he got up?"
"He's always in bed."
She peered curiously out of the window and saw a peculiar house. It had been a hut once, and someone had added on to it, first once, then again. The separate parts were all different colours. Next to it stood a garage of corrugated iron. The courtyard was overgrown. A rusty old trowel was being slowly strangled by stinging nettles and dandelions. But Ragnhild wasn't interested in the house; she had her eye on something else.
"Bunnies!" she said faintly.
"Yes," he said, pleased. "Do you want to look at them?"
He hopped out, opened the back, and lifted her down. He had a peculiar way of walking; his legs were almost unnaturally short and he was severely bowlegged. His feet were small. His wide nose nearly touched his lower lip, which stuck out a bit. Under his nose hung a big, clear drop. Ragnhild thought he wasn't that old, although when he walked he swayed like an old man. But it was funny too. A boy's face on an old body. He wobbled over to the rabbit hutches and opened